26 
FOREST AND STREAM 
January, 1920 
LOOKING FOR THE WINTER BIRDS 
THERE IS A CHANCE OF SEEING SEVERAL SPECIES OF NORTHERN FINCHES 
WHICH MAY COME SOUTH DURING ANY OF THE COLDER MONTHS 
BY JOHN T. NICHOLS 
O NE of the bird student’s pleasures 
in being abroad during bleak win- 
ter weather the ever-present 
possibility of meeting with some of the 
several species of northern finches which 
may come south in irregular numbers 
during any of the colder months. One’s 
first glimpse of them is apt to be moving 
restlessly about rather high, with wav- 
ering flight and characteristic note, 
which, if the species be a rare one that 
the observer has not met before, may 
become familiar days or even years be- 
fore he has opportunity to make sure to 
which species it belongs. 
Though not a finch, the horned lark 
is associated in our mind with these 
wanderers from the north, its habits be- 
ing quite similar to those of the most 
terrestrial of them. Horned larks occur 
in numbers every winter along the 
shore and on certain extensive treeless 
areas back from the shore which par- 
ticularly meet their tastes. If one goes 
to such a place on a bleak November af- 
ternoon one will hear their characteris- 
tic lisping, twittering calls “sweet, si-r-r- 
up, etc,” as the straggling flock wavers 
uncertainly about in the air to dart down 
and along close to the ground before 
alighting. Marking the spot carefully 
we approach and scan the ground where 
the birds must be, with our field glasses. 
Even so, so well do their colors match the 
sod, that they are frequently flushed 
before they can be seen running about, 
and more often than not they get up 
closer to the observer than he thought 
them to be. Away from such few lo- 
calities the horned lark is one of the 
rarer winter stragglers. 
The snow bunting, which may be read- 
ily told from other finch-like birds by a 
broad, white stripe occupying a large 
part of the wing, also has a predilection 
for the coast, where it appears in small 
numbers each fall around the first off 
November, and may be found in winter 
feeding among the beach grass or along 
the edge of frozen bays, frequently as- 
sociating with flocks of the horned lark. 
If your locality be inland, very severe 
winter weather may bring you a flock 
of snow buntings, but years will go by 
without a visit from them. The com- 
monest of these species is doubtless the 
pine siskin. Some years none are pres- 
ent. At other times it is positively 
abundant. About the size of a gold- 
finch, with sharp, pointed bill, and 
plumage heavily streaked throughout, it 
has a yellow stripe in the wing which 
will identify it at close range as it 
flies; but its manner of flight is even 
more diagnostic. It moves in very close 
rank with a low chattering note and oc- 
casionally a loud squeal. Birds flying 
singly squeal more than those in flocks. 
During the fall migration flock after 
flock of siskins sometimes may be seen 
moving along the coast. Occasionally 
they pitch down into a clump of alders 
among the dunes and a hundred or more 
birds accumulate there in a few minutes, 
to be up and away again almost im- 
mediately. In good siskin years they 
are also met with rather generally in- 
land, often feeding in coniferous trees 
or it may be on the seeds of the birch 
or the burrs of the sweet gum, in which 
cases they also settle on the ground un- 
der the trees and gather seeds which 
have fallen. 
Near the latitude of winter snow- line 
in the eastern states, where so many of 
us live, all these winter visitors, with 
the exception of the siskin, may be rated 
as uncommon. Probably the red cross- 
bill is the least so. Its peculiar crossed 
bill is an especial adaptation for ex- 
tracting seeds from cones, and it is most 
apt to appear or become numerous in 
areas where coniferous trees are abund- 
ant. Among the pitch pines of Cape Cod 
we have found it one of the most abundant 
birds in winter and very tame, almost 
allowing itself to be caught under one’s 
hat as it hopped on the ground. This is 
a red crossbill year. The writer spent 
a few days in early November on south- 
central Long Island and several times 
saw flocks flying over or heard their 
characteristic “kip kip”. One or two 
birds alighted for a time among the dry 
leaves in the top of a deciduous tree and 
a flock was seen to pitch down into a 
grove of tall pines to remain but a min- 
Courtesy of American Museum of Natural History. 
Rabbits 
ute or two. The species has also been 
reported nearer New York City this 
fall. The red crossbill is about as large 
as a sparrow and has black wings. Its 
body plumage may be either red, or a 
dull gray washed with olive-green and 
yellow. 
In our experience the pine grosbeak 
has been more frequent than the red- 
poll, though the latter strays much fur- 
ther south, especially along the coast, 
occasionally reaching the Carolinas. The 
pin© grosbeak is nearly of the same size 
and something the same build as a rob- 
in, with short, stout, finch-like bill and 
white wing bars. It is usually slate 
gray in color, more or less washed with 
yellowish in places. The adult male has 
the entire plumage suffused with rose 
red, but such red birds are in the minor- 
ity. Pine grosbeaks have clear ringing 
notes, sometimes suggestive of those of 
a yellowleg. We well remember the first 
redpolls we ever met with. There had 
been two heavy falls of snow, the last 
on the first of March, and the ground 
was deeply snow covered. Four or five 
of these little birds suddenly appeared 
in some birches in the center of the 
town. They were tame and seemed well 
satisfied with their surroundings. More 
slender than the goldfinch with longer 
tails, less heavily streaked than the siskin, 
their pale bills set off by black chins, 
and red on top of the head; they were 
mostly silent, but occasionally had a 
twittering note suggestive of goldfinch 
and siskin, though different from either. 
Several years ago when we spent our 
winters in New England, the stocky, 
heavy billed, evening grosbeak had not 
invaded that region for many years, but 
recently it has occurred regularly each 
season, flocks staying for weeks about 
villages where food is set out for 
them. Very ocasionally we have the 
white-winged crossbill, distinguished by 
two white' wing bars, with us, or one 
finds stray lapland longspurs in flocks of 
horned larks and snow buntings along 
the coast, smaller, darker birds, which 
stand with the head high, like an English 
sparrow. 
Even taken all together, these birds do 
not add so much to our winter tramps by 
their presence, but the knowledge that 
they may at any time be met with, often 
when and where least expected, perhaps 
the very species looked for long in vair 
adds much to the interest of being afield 
during winter-weather. 
